(GAVIN)

As soon as Donovan left, I found myself standing on the porch staring at nothing. I was trying my best not to cry, and I wouldn't cry. It was my move to take her to my apartment, even though Donovan probably wanted to take her to his. But mine was much closer. Besides, he'd hardly have time to pay any attention to her. Lately he'd been working hard to invest even more heavily in Urus, our company. And having someone who had almost killed herself under his care was too delicate.

I closed the door and continued thinking. Of course it was delicate for me, but I spent a lot more time at home. My presence was only required at certain times, and apart from emergencies that might arise, I could really devote myself to it, at least temporarily. I was going to do it. It was more than just duty, it was pure instinct.

I went straight to the guest room. I turned the lights down as low as possible (perhaps it wasn't very healthy for her to wake up in total darkness), fluffed the other pillows and sorted out two more blankets. I'd have to do something about those clothes, but for now, it wouldn't hurt to get the sheets dirty.

I returned to the living room. As carefully as I could, I cradled her in my arms. She was so light and delicate, like a doll. A doll that had been broken in such incredible ways that it had chosen to end itself. I couldn't help but let a tear fall down her little face. I dried her off, and dirt splashed onto my finger along with the water. Tomorrow I would ask her to take a bath.

As I laid her down, I noticed other details: her arms were full of straight lines of scars, but also smaller, more recent cuts. All perfectly symmetrical, which ruled out the possibility of an accident. Before putting an end to herself, she had chosen to unload her emotional pain with self-mutilation.

What happened to her?

I put the covers over her body and stayed there. I knew I should lie down and sleep too, but something told me to stay there. That she would need me very soon.

I decided that I wouldn't go upstairs, where my room was; but I wouldn't sleep next to her either - my presence so close was inappropriate and could frighten her even more.

I preferred not to close the door when I left. I thought it was a good idea to take the key out of the lock and keep it in my pants pocket, too. After all, she might wake up, lock herself in and... It was horrible just to imagine.

I went upstairs to get my pillow and covers, put everything on the sofa and then went to the bathroom for a quick shower.

I wanted so much for her to be all right.

He wanted to know everything: his name, why he had decided to kill himself, where he had come from, where he would go when he was better. People don't decide they want to die overnight. It takes time and a succession of misfortunes and disasters for them to even seriously consider this option.

As the hot water poured over my body, I thought about how badly Donovan was shaken. Had it triggered him? Was it hurting him more than me? Although I'd been through some bad things, I'd never come close to even attempting suicide. He did. And coming back from an attempt, in his words, was like being born again.

Would she feel like that when she woke up? Would I be able to see up close what it's like to come back from the valley of the dead, what the first moments are like when you realize you're still alive?

I had to be patient.

As I got out of the shower, I thought of something else. She would probably wake up hungry, and I hardly had anything at home. Most of the things I ate came from fast food services, and I wasn't going to push junk food on someone so frail. Duly dressed in shorts and an old shirt (I usually slept naked or in my underwear, but obviously I wouldn't do that now), I went to the kitchen to see what I could make and get ready for the next day.

I found bread for toast, milk, coffee and some fruit. There were also cereal bars and, as luck would have it, boxed cereal. I would go to the market as soon as I could. Probably when Donovan got home from his meeting and could keep an eye on her.

Drowsy with sleep, I managed to make the coffee and have it ready in the thermos. I could do the rest when I woke up. I walked over to the sofa, but stopped halfway and decided to check on her once more, just to make sure.

She was in the same position as I had left her. Suddenly nervous, I decided to check her breathing. It was normal, so I relaxed a little. I stroked her hair briefly and felt the roughness. Poor thing. It must have been a long time since she'd untangled it.

I opened the drawer in the guest room and found a plastic predendor. With as much care as I could muster, I tied her hair up in a bun, neither tight nor loose. Just to make her a little more comfortable.

I went straight to the sofa. And as tense and worried as I was, I managed to fall asleep.